Karayan
by Halfsmile
Summary: Can a guy reject a girl's romantic love, yet look out for her?


A man wearing a black hat embossed with a white shooting star and cloaked in a black robe prepared to board an Exeggutor-decorated bus that transported passengers up a mountain to an observatory, where he hoped to watch the stars at night. Prior to departure, a lady of his acquaintance motioned to him, with urgency flashing in her emerald eyes. Her brown hair did not quite reach the base of her neck, but was adorned with a cute ribbon and she was clad in a silver dress with white frills at her waist and sleeves. The fellow heeded her call, feeling slight regret at missing the bus.

'Yes, Karayan?' he inquired, expecting her to convey a message of importance.

'I feel happy when I'm with you, but not when I'm without you,' Karayan said in a tone of muted passion, placing her dominant left hand upon her breast.

The dude who donned in black took a step backward in surprise. He had an inkling Karayan liked him, but he certainly was not expecting a confession from her. 'Er, I'm not opposed to eating meals with you,' he began with a slight stutter, referring to two occasions on which they had dined together, the first in a local restaurant of Alola and the second in Kalos' Anistar City, which he viewed as his home away from home.

Karayan's eyes began to shine as she spoke, 'So, are you okay with going out?'

The fellow continued, 'But I don't think we should be boyfriend and girlfriend.'

'Why not?' the girl dressed in grey asked in sheer disappointment.

'Perhaps it is easier to express what I mean by a letter. I shall send a missive to you by Pelipper on the morrow,' he replied, trying to keep a steady voice.

'But then there is no temperature,' Karayan protested, referring not to the flames of a Litten, rather to the warmth of the atmosphere following her confession. This was the man's point; he wanted to step back from this hot situation, go home, and coolly pen a sincere reply to Karayan, but she would have none of it. 'Yip9, why don't you want to be lovers?' she asked him fervently. 'Do you like another girl?'

His gaze drifted away from hers. The truthful answer was that he liked many girls. He was no playboy, rather he had an eye for beauty, and he had encountered many fair ladies during his travels, not to mention in his daily life. Karayan met his standards; she was fine, sweet, to his shock, very much in love with him, and most importantly, they worshiped the same God. Nevertheless, he had no desire to go steady with Karayan, because to do so with no intention of ever marrying her was to play with her heart, which he had already done unwittingly. He had given her small gifts, such as pumpkin slices with mashed tofu and mushrooms atop rice, to prevent her from going hungry while she worked through lunch hours and he had praised her beauty, which was apparent to all who knew her. His friend told him this would have been flirtatious 20 years ago, but not in the present, so he was amazed that this was the way to court Karayan. Yip9 was not merely averse to marrying her, he was averse to marrying anymon.

He declined to convey in detail his reason for his aversion to marriage and simply replied, 'Yes,' to her dismay. Seeing her face fall, he apologized, 'I'm sorry for playing with your heart. I'm sorry for chasing you.'

'You never chased me,' Karayan replied, 'I was always a million Pikameters ahead of you. Behold, the next Exeggutor on wheels approaches.' She turned on her heel and walked away, her dress swaying in the wind.

Yip9 sighed and shook his head while he boarded the bus, hoping gazing at the starry sky would clear his mind. Perhaps he would glimpse a Comet Punch or a serene Lunala.

* * *

Yip9 walked along a path nigh perfect for Pokemon trainers. There was abundant tall grass in which to search for Pokemon, trees under which to gather berries and the accompanying Crabrawler, and spots out of the way of travelers to engage in Pokemon matches. While thus enjoying an afternoon stroll, Yip9 was surprised, for who should he see but Karayan.

She was not alone; next to her strode a strapping fellow in gear reminiscent of a black belt trainer. The physical proximity of the two, the glare the other man shot Yip9 when he looked at them, and the change that had come over Karayan to suit her companion suggested he was her boyfriend. She was still pretty, but her face was no longer gentle; something was amiss, but Yip9 could not put his finger on it. Her hair was cut attractively short and dyed a pastel green, her figure clad in a flashy bright orange outfit that showed off her triceps, thighs, and midriff. In short, she strongly resembled a crush girl, one of the female trainers of fighting-type Pokemon in Kanto.

'Good afternoon, Karayan,' Yip9 greeted her.

'Yip9,' she acknowledged him, then gestured to the strong fellow beside her. 'My significant other is Blackbelt Kiyo.'

'Well met, sir,' Yip9 tipped his hat in greeting to Karayan's boyfriend. Kiyo made the slightest bow to him. Recollection dawned on Yip9. 'Are you Karate King Kiyo of Johto's Mt. Mortar?' Kiyo spared him an affirmative glance. 'Our Pokemon match is a fond memory.'

Kiyo grunted, then spoke harshly, 'Pokemon can rot in the depths of Distortion World.'

In that instant, Yip9 noticed it: an erstwhile wound on Karayan's cheek that had only recently become a scar. 'Have you been taking care of Karayan?' he asked.

'He hasn't,' the crush girl in question interjected in a voice of pure honesty.

'Karayan!' her boyfriend barked at her to be quiet, but she continued, 'After several defeats of his team of fighting-type Pokemon and nothing but, Kiyo became disillusioned with Pokemon and those who love them. His standard of martial arts is the highest and when I fail him,' Karayan did not need to finish her sentence.

At this, both men were barely keeping their tempers. Kiyo's face looked as if he were lifting a boulder while he took a threatening step toward the other guy, who fingered one of the orbs at his belt, his eyebrows at a sharp angle. Karayan, desirous to see what would become of this, egged the two men on, 'Fight! Fight! Fight!' she cheered, as if she were a Plusle rather than a martial artist in training.

Yip9 spoke softly, although his scarlet face betrayed his anger, 'It is unfair. I'm a dedicated Pokemon trainer, while your boyfriend has forsaken his Pokemon. It's like a person who can summon monsters facing a person who just fights on his own.'

Kiyo roared, 'I don't need a Pokemon to take care of you!' In half a second, his karate expertise dealt a blown that landed his opponent prostrate on the grassy turf, but the trainer was conscious, and palming a red and white sphere at his side, dispatched one of the monsters he mentioned, who entered the match in a shower of crimson sparks. 'Ha!' the karate king mocked, 'A Pikachu; defense rating one out of five.'

At first, Karayan was surprised to see that Pikachu took its turn with a slightly defensive position, rather than attacking or supporting with a move, at no command from its trainer, then she recalled Yip9's unspoken understanding with his finest Pokemon; the seasoned trainer could direct his best Pokemon in a match without an action or a word.

The unimpressed Kiyo struck Pikachu with a flying kick, twirling the mouse Pokemon through the air and crashing it down on the grass, but Pikachu rolled to its feet and electrocuted Kiyo with a bolt from the blue.

'Please, enough already!' exclaimed Kiyo's worried girlfriend, rushing to the collapsed karate king who pulsated with electricity. Yip9, who had recovered by now, assisted Karayan in helping Kiyo stand.

'I'm sorry,' Kiyo expressed his regret. 'You have my word of honor as a martial artist that I will take care of Karayan.' Feeling his strength and health inexplicably return, Kiyo turned to see a benevolent Eon Pokemon using Heal Pulse to purge his body of the electricity and shock.

'Thank you,' Karayan said to the Latias, who waved to her cheerfully. 'Pokemon aren't so bad, right, Kiyo?' Kiyo glumly nodded his assent and embraced his caring girlfriend, whereupon the reconciled couple took their leave, each raising a hand in farewell.

* * *

Soli Deo Gloria


End file.
